


daddy issues

by perdue



Category: Potpourri - Fandom
Genre: All sorts of fucked up shit really, Choking, Daddy Kink, F/M, Hair Pulling, Incest Undertones, M/M, Sexual Slavery, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7883059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdue/pseuds/perdue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilfred Blair has started calling his new boss "daddy," though he tries not to remember why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	daddy issues

**Author's Note:**

> i....don't have a good excuse for this.

_Etheldred’s Sunday dress was nothing short of exquisite. It was made up of three layers, all lacy and soft, with a fabric flower blooming from the chest with two small pearls in its centre, and a layer of floral print that gave way to creams and beiges and oranges and greens, and simple white flowery lace covering the lower thighs. Wilfred had been amazed from the moment he had seen it, and at his favourite maid’s encouragement had tried it on, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric swishing at his thighs, coming up a bit higher than it did on Etheldred simply due to the few centimetres taller he was with his slightly older age._

_Neither Wilfred nor the maid would have expected Leopold Blair to return home so early, or to have him stride into the room as Wilfred was twirling around, making the folds of the dress billow up about his thighs, smiling ecstatically at the maid’s happy laughter. Her laughter didn’t last long once she noticed his father, and so neither did Wilfred’s smile._

_“Wilfred, I warned you what would happen if you didn’t listen to me.” “Mr. Blair, please don’t be angry with him, it was my idea—”_

_“Wilfred, come,” the man commanded, not paying the maid any mind. His glare was fixed on his son, who fisted the dress’s skirt and nervously avoided his father’s eyes. He was young yet, and his father’s anger still instilled fear in his chest. But Wilfred was an obedient boy, and he walked to the man with bare feet and trembling legs. Leopold knelt down on one knee, the other knee bent perpendicular to the ground. He slapped his own thigh, jerking his head at Wilfred. “Bend over.”_

_Wilfred was shaking but he focused on the feeling of the lace on his thighs as he did as he was told, kneeling over his father’s thigh, bottom sticking out into the air. The maid’s voice sounded faint in the background as she said, “Mr. Blair, that really isn’t necessary…”_

_Before Wilfred was able to quite prepare himself, Leopold lifted the skirt of the dress up to his lower back and pulled down his underpants. A loud slap was followed by stinging was followed by whimpering._

_“Stop crying,” the man said. He pulled up Wilfred’s underpants and let the skirt fall back over his legs before pulling the boy up to his feet. His big fingers dug into Wilfred’s delicate chin and forced the boy to look him in the eyes. “You aren’t to wear your sister’s clothes. I’ve told you this. An eight-year-old boy ought to know better.”_

_Wilfred could do nothing but whimper in response, so his father tightened his grip on the boy’s chin to the point that it began to hurt._

_“Do you understand me?” he prompted. Wilfred tried to nod in the affirmative, but Leopold yanked at his face. “I want a real answer, Wilfred.”_

_“Y-Yes, father,” Wilfred whimpered._

_At last, Leopold released him and stood. “Return Etheldred’s dress to her room immediately and change back into your own clothes. If I catch you wearing her clothes again I will not be as lenient as I was today.” As Wilfred hurried to do as he was told, Leopold turned to the maid with a menacing glare. “You and I are going to have a talk,” he said, his tone dangerously low. Wilfred only caught one last glance at her frightened expression before he closed the door behind him._

***

Wilfred lay in his bed, the springs creaking softly as he shifted, eyes catching on the strips of golden paint from a long-forgotten desire to make himself happy. He’d only been back for fifteen minutes and still wore his suit, a form-fitting three-piece Derren Mikhail had gifted him simply because the man expected Wilfred to make an appearance at a party.

The Family had been anticipating an important business deal for several months. A new Spanish importer was coming to London and Derren wanted to make sure his interests were being considered. Wilfred, coming from a posh background, had the most experience with foreign language, and had studied French and Spanish both as a child and even in the brothel with the other working girls, along with Arabic and German.

Intelligence had come in through Derren’s subordinates that the senior manager of the importing company—some young up-and-coming businessman called Javier—would be attending a bourgeois sort of party, and that he was the most likely in the company to be interested in working out a deal for importing cocaine into the United Kingdom. Wilfred’s job was to be in attendance and to convince him of the mutually beneficial relationship he could form with the Family.

Convince, of course, was Derren’s way of telling Wilfred he would be utilizing his bedroom skills.

A sharp rapping came at the door of his small apartment, and Wilfred sighed and stood. He tried not to focus on the stale, bitter taste in his mouth as he opened the heavy door just enough to peer through and see who was bothering him at this hour when he’d only just returned.

Wilfred hadn’t been with the Family for that long yet, and he didn’t know the name of the man who waited outside his door, only that he’d seen him running errands for Derren before.

“Can I help you?” Wilfred asked, annoyed and too tired to bother hiding it. The man there wasn’t all that much older than Wilfred, but he took the annoyed tone in stride, choosing rather to smirk at Wilfred.

“The boss asked for you,” he said, adding with a sneer, “in his private quarters.”

Wilfred felt himself become expressionless. He’d been somewhat glad at the prospect of coming to work with Derren exclusively. When Morgan told him his contract had been bought by one of his clients, his sadness at leaving them and the other girls was overshadowed by the thought of finally having the opportunity to form a true relationship with someone without having to be passed around like nothing more than a toy.

It was naïve of him to hope for as much, he supposed.

In the few weeks he’d been a part of the Family, he’d already been given to enough of Derren’s business partners as a gift of gratitude—a perk of doing business with him, a promise for all the good things to come—to know that nothing had changed. Nothing good was coming for him, for he was nothing more than a whore. And now, he lacked even the option to refuse a client, and there was no Morgan there to protect him.

“You can tell him that I’ll be there as soon as I clean up,” Wilfred said quietly. The messenger boy gave him a pitiable look.

“He doesn’t like to wait. You’d better go now.”

The man’s look of pity riled up a feeling of disdain in the pit of Wilfred’s stomach. “Thanks for the advice,” he said tersely, “but I think I can make my own decisions and I’m getting cleaned up first.”

He slammed the door in the other man’s face, only wondering after he heard his footsteps retreating if he had just made a mistake. 

***

_Summer cicadas buzzed and the air felt more like static than anything breathable. Wildflowers dotted the side of the road, many purples and yellows and blues, and Wilfred watched them with a soft longing in his heart, the sort of which had grown rare to burst into his chest the way it did when he was younger. There was nothing he knew to long for now besides freedom from a house as stifling as the day’s muggy air._

_It was to Sparrow Manor that he was headed then. He’d been told to stay with Felix and Etheldred and play for the remainder of the day, but Etheldred was being snottier than usual, and Felix was taking her side, and Wilfred thought he might snap if he spent another moment with them, so he ran away, back to the dirt road that led up to his parents’ mansion of a home. It didn’t much matter to him that his parents were both at work. If anything, he knew he’d be able to sneak up into his room before the butler noticed and hide there for the rest of the day. There he could read the gardening book Emily had given him before summer holiday began uninterrupted._

_Yet, when he came up to the house, he saw that the butler’s car was gone, and a car he didn’t recognize was in the driveway. He hesitated, but came in through the servants’ door anyways. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when he first walked down the steps into the servants’ quarters. The butler wasn’t there, but neither was anyone else._

_Curious, Wilfred ascended into the dining room. Nothing there was out of place either, until he suddenly heard a scream and a thumping sound. Wilfred’s heart jumped into his throat, and just when he was considering going back to Felix’s house and grabbing his sister, there was another scream._

_That was when something in Wilfred’s brain clicked. The scream wasn’t one of fear or horror. It was a scream of pleasure, the likes of which he’d heard when Felix showed him a porn video on the internet. Wilfred swallowed and headed for the stairs, careful and light on his feet._

_As he climbed to the second story of the mansion, desperate moans and gasps and grunts became audible. Hands beginning to tremble from a misplaced sense of fear, Wilfred crept over to the source of the sound—his parents’ room. The door was already ajar, and he could even hear the sound of skin slapping on skin as he came close enough to peek his head around the door. They were both facing mostly away, so Wilfred went unnoticed as his wide eyes took in what they were doing._

_The first thing he became aware of was the fact that the woman making those erotic sounds was not his mother. Her hair was shorter and the colour of hazel, and her body was toned with more muscle than Wilfred ever imagined a girl could have. She was nothing like his mother._

_But, it was indeed his father behind her, grunting and moaning loudly as he twisted one of her toned arms behind her back and pounded into her from behind. Wilfred had never seen his father naked before, his eyes gliding over the man’s hairy and strong body, the way his arse cheeks flexed every time he thrusted into the woman. Her breasts bounced back and forth from the force of his thrusts, and her pussy made lewd, wet squelching sounds as his father’s cock pounded in and out of it._

_“Leo,” the woman whimpered, and hearing his father’s name spoken like that sent a jolt through Wilfred’s spine. He watched in horror and growing arousal as his father grabbed the woman by her hair and yanked her upright, and just when his father twisted her face around to lick into her mouth, she looked back and made eye contact with Wilfred._

_Immediately her green eyes widened and as she tried to pull out of Leopold’s grasp and tell him to stop, Wilfred found himself backing away slowly. He’d been caught watching—caught catching his father in the act of being unfaithful to his mother. He vaguely heard the woman say his name to his father through the frightened buzzing in his ears. Before he knew it, his father had turned and seen him. It was too late._

_His father pulled out of the strange woman and turned towards him, and Wilfred tried not to stare at the man’s large cock, tried not to notice how red hot it was or the way it glistened from the woman’s fluids. Leopold shouted his name, and Wilfred’s attention snapped to his face. The man was walking toward him, and Wilfred backed away even further until he hit the wall opposite the door. But it was no use; his father followed him into the corridor and slammed the bedroom door behind him._

_Before he knew what was happening, Leopold’s hand was around his neck, pinning him to the wall. Wilfred knew the man hadn’t even bothered to cover himself up, but he was too scared to look anywhere other than his father’s furious brown eyes. His face was uncomfortably close._

_“Did I not tell you to stay with the Terrances?”_

_“I-I… Etheldred was being rude, and I wanted to come back and read--”_

_Leopold’s strong fingers squeezed Wilfred’s neck tight enough to silence him, though Wilfred wasn't sure if it was the pressure on his trachea or overwhelming fear which stole his breath away._

_“You are to do as I say,” Leopold said in no more than a whisper through his teeth. “And if I tell you to stay the day with the Terrances, that is exactly what you will do. Understood?” Wilfred nodded practically imperceptibly, but his father’s face was so close to his own that the man saw it. Seemingly satisfied, he continued, voice so low that Wilfred could feel it rumbling through his fingers, “As for what you saw, if you breathe even so much as a word about it to anyone, I will personally see to it that your suffering is too much even for you to bear.”_

_His father’s breath flitted against his lips as he spoke the words that made Wilfred’s chocolate eyes widen at once in surprise and revelation, and a shiver ran up his spine. He nodded again after a few moments, and his father finally released him._

_“Now go back to the Terrances’ immediately. If I catch you back here before your mother brings you back, you will regret it,” he threatened._

_“Yes, father,” Wilfred rasped, catching one last glance at his father’s naked body as the man turned and headed back into his bedroom, yet again slamming the door behind him. Wilfred could hear the woman’s voice on the other side sound concerned, as well as his father’s dismissive tone. Before long, the woman and his father were both moaning again, and Wilfred walked back down the stairs on faltering legs._

***

After brushing his teeth to get the stale taste out of his mouth, and restyling his hair so that it looked as nice as it had before he left for the party, Wilfred checked outside his door carefully to make sure he wouldn’t be ambushed before making his way slowly over to Derren’s apartment. Out of everyone in the compound, Derren naturally had the largest living space, a spacious suite on the top floor of the building where the whole Family lived. The vaulted ceiling and elegant, custom-made furniture imported from Germany reminded Wilfred of being at home in Sparrow Manor, where the appearance of the living spaces was always considered more important than actually living in them. 

One of the bedrooms in the suite had been turned into a music room. There was a beautiful grand piano taking up one corner, near the window. The bookshelf on the other wall was full of sheet music, all of them by classical German composers: Bach, Handel, Schumann. Derren didn’t play much, himself, though when Wilfred had first arrived, the man had offered to show him how to play. Wilfred had done so horribly that Derren had decided to simply use the large instrument as nothing more than a surface to pin Wilfred against. Wilfred hadn’t been in the music room again since. 

Besides the toilet accessible from the living room, there was a large bathroom in Derren’s own bedroom with a giant, bear claw bathtub, marble countertops, and a skylight. The bedroom itself was reminiscent of Sparrow Manor, as well. The bed was as big as a bed could be, with a walk-in closet and an antique wardrobe. The window went practically from floor to ceiling, and although it only provided a view of other apartment buildings, it was a taste of luxury that Wilfred hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Yet after two weeks of staring out of that window as Derren ravaged him, Wilfred had started fantasizing about crashing through it and falling to his death. 

That night Wilfred couldn’t see the neighbouring apartment buildings due to how dark it was when Derren dragged him into the room by the hair he’d so painstakingly styled for him. He licked up Wilfred’s neck with breath that smelled heavily of beer, tugging on the redhead’s earlobe with his teeth before whispering in a dangerously low voice, “Why didn’t you come directly to me?” 

Wilfred shuddered, arching and pressing his backside against the man’s half-hard cock, moaning the way he knew Derren wanted him to. “I’m sorry, Derren,” he breathed. “I was so worn out from the party that I didn’t think about anything but crawling into bed.” 

Derren’s fingers closed around his neck, pressing hard against the soft skin just below his jawline. Wilfred gasped, head rolling back onto Derren’s shoulder, but that didn’t release any of the pressure on his throat. “Did I not specifically instruct you to come to me as soon as you return from any job?” Wilfred moaned and grinded back against him fervently, hoping to erase his mistake from Derren’s mind through physical contact alone. But then Derren said, “You are to do as I say, or you will regret it.” 

Wilfred felt his dick twitch and could do little else than whimper and rasp, “Y-Yes, daddy.” 

Derren pressed a sly smile to Wilfred’s neck, lecherous hand fondling between Wilfred’s legs. “You ought to know by now that daddy punishes bad little boys who can’t do as they’re told.” 

Although he was slowly becoming hard, Wilfred still focused his attention on grinding back on Derren’s pelvis, knowing better than to seek out his own pleasure. He nodded as much as he could with the man’s fingers still tight around his neck, barely able to breathe out, “Punish me, daddy, please.” 

The man grabbed his crotch hard and tightened the grip on Wilfred’s neck so much that he couldn't breathe. Wilfred reached for his hand, eyes wide and frightened, but it was useless--he knew Derren was much bigger and stronger than him. Nothing more than choking sounds escaped his throat, his eyes rolling back into his head until Derren finally released him, completely stepping away and allowing Wilfred to fall to the ground, coughing heavily as he tried to get oxygen back to his lungs. 

“Did you like that Spanish fucker’s dick so much you didn’t want to come back to mine? Huh?” Wilfred couldn’t even shake his head, but Derren wouldn’t have cared either way. He pulled Wilfred back up by his hair and shoved him roughly against the full-length window, holding him up with one knee between his legs as his hands worked at removing Wilfred’s suit jacket. His roughness paused only long enough to unravel the tie from Wilfred’s neck before he returned to ripping off his chemise, tiny cream-coloured buttons going flying. 

“D-Daddy, my shirt,” Wilfred lamented, his breathing barely back to normal. Derren pulled his hair back so hard that Wilfred couldn’t help but moan loudly. 

“Who bought you this shirt, huh? Who keeps you fed? Clothed? Who puts a roof over your head, gives you your own personal apartment?” 

Wilfred whimpered, “Daddy does,” pressing back against his erection again desperately. 

“That’s right, and for what? You completely lack in gratitude for all I do for you. You’re a greedy little whore and I’m starting to wonder if you’re really stupid enough to not follow simple directions or if you just like it when daddy punishes you.” Wilfred felt the fabric of his tie whisper against his back, stark contrast to the nails Derren dragged down his back. “Is that it, you little slut? Do you like it when daddy hurts you?” 

“Yes,” he moaned, wet breath fogging up the glass that his face was pressed up to. He looked out into the darkness, wondering if there were any voyeurs out there who could see his display, wondering just how hard Derren would have to fuck him before he really did crash through the window, broken shards of glass like glitter in pale starlight, his own starry night welcoming him into the black of nothingness. 

Derren took his hands and used his tie to bind his wrists together behind his back. “Good, because I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to get it into your stupid little brain that you come to me before doing anything.” 

The man reached for Wilfred’s belt buckle, and Wilfred steeled himself as much as he could, asking in a affected childish voice, “Even if the people you sent me to dirtied me up? I don’t want you to see me when I’m all dirty, daddy.” His trousers were being pulled down, and next thing he knew he was being repositioned, bent over so that his arse stuck out, where he felt a sharp sting accompanied with the loud smacking sound of leather on skin. He cried out, knees wobbling and fingernails digging into his own palms. 

“I send you to them to get dirtied up, you little whore. Now if I tell you to return immediately to me, you do it.” He whipped the belt against his bare arse again, eliciting another sharp cry. 

“Yes daddy, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Wilfred whimpered, and then shouted when Derren whipped him even harder than before. Tears sprung up in his eyes unbidden, but he was helpless to stop them from the pain, choosing only to shut his eyes tightly out of the hopes that perhaps Derren wouldn’t notice. 

“You probably would if it meant getting slapped around again,” Derren commented, reaching between Wilfred’s legs from behind and fondling Wilfred’s balls. “You’re just as hard as I am even after getting spanked. You like it when daddy spanks your tight little arse, don’t you?”

Wilfred nodded, giving himself time to choke back the tearfulness in his voice. “Yes. Spank me more, daddy. Use your palm so I can feel daddy’s hand on me.” 

Against his wishes, Derren whipped him once again with the belt, and this time when Wilfred cried out Derren stuck his fingers in his mouth, muffling his cries. “Little boys shouldn’t be giving daddy orders,” the man warned, lips so close to Wilfred’s ear that he could feel them. Wilfred could do little else than gargle and moan around the man’s large fingers, drool spilling onto his chin. “Good,” Derren murmured. “Be a good boy and suck on my fingers. Get them nice and wet before I use them to fuck your pretty arsehole.” 

Wilfred gave him a lewd moan, running his tongue along and between his fingers with the same eager expertise he’d developed in the brothel, until Derren withdrew them and reached down, unceremoniously sticking three inside him with no other warning. Wilfred squirmed at the stretching sensation. 

“You didn’t let him fuck you?” Derren asked, spreading his fingers and curling them as he thrusted slowly in and out. Wilfred knew it wasn’t so much a question as a confirmation, because Derren hadn’t ordered him to let Javier fuck him, and so he hadn’t. 

“No, daddy,” Wilfred gasped, grinding down on his fingers. “I put him in my mouth and made him feel really good and told him that I looked forward to more fun in the future of our business partnership, just like you wanted me to,” Wilfred assured him, punctuated with many gasps and open moans as Derren continued to finger fuck him and nibble on his earlobes. 

“That’s a good boy. Why don’t you show me exactly what you did to him?” He withdrew his fingers and stepped back. Without his bodyweight holding Wilfred in place, the redhead stumbled a bit, but quickly regained his composure. He swallowed heavily, but guided Derren to the wall and got to his knees. 

***

_Downstairs, the fanciful party celebrating Audrey’s thirty-sixth birthday was well underway. As the entire affair was arranged by Audrey herself with some minimal—mostly monetary—contributions from Leopold, it was rather extravagant. The Blairs hired extra help for the evening: chefs and servers and decorators and modest entertainment in the form of a well-renowned string quartet._

_Everyone who was anyone in Audrey’s well-to-do world was there, dressed exquisitely and holding champagne glasses and trying to discreetly eat the hor d’oeuvres while still remaining attractive and elegant. Leopold spent most of the evening talking to Lorelei, who looked positively radiant in a dress that accentuated her strong physique. Audrey tried not to notice, smiling too broadly and holding Etheldred close to her at all times. The young girl wore a brand new dress bought for the occasion and forced smiles at every boring adult to whom her mother introduced her._

_It should have been Wilfred in her position, but Wilfred had disappeared upstairs as soon as Lorelei arrived and caught his gaze before turning to his father. Wilfred couldn’t stand to be in the grand ballroom anyways—the air was stifling with rich, aristocratic types who cared much more for their appearances and how others perceived them than anything else. It was already almost more than Wilfred could bear being around that with just his own parents, let alone an entire room full of the same sort._

_His own bedroom was much more exciting, anyways. Felix had snuck in through the window that his father hadn’t gotten around yet to bolting shut. With him he brought a large bottle of gin that he’d nicked from his older brother and several cans of tonic water. Wilfred snuck one of the orange and cherry syrup bottles from the kitchen because he wanted his liquor to be sweet enough to almost—but not quite—mask the stinging taste as the liquid burned its way down his oesophagus._

_They played games on Wilfred’s personal television and told stories about school and laughed and spoke of girls—though Felix carefully avoided mentioning Etheldred and Wilfred carefully didn’t bring her up. Their talk eventually became more general, such as what traits make a girl sexiest—though Wilfred carefully avoided mentioning the one time he and Emily had gone the whole way before she broke up with him and Felix carefully didn’t bring it up._

_“Do you wanna watch a porno?” Felix finally asked, whipping out his phone. The pink-haired boy’s cheeks were red and his speech was sloppy. But, Wilfred knew he wasn’t any more sober than his friend, and he thought about what it had been like to feel Emily from the inside, which led to remembering that fateful day when he’d seen his father and Lorelei together, and he felt hot all over and leaned closer to Felix as he grinned mischievously and nodded in the affirmative._

_Felix opened up the app he’d downloaded onto his phone, and Wilfred gave him a cheeky look. “How often do you use this thing, then?” he asked teasingly. He glanced down and noticed that there were a lot of recommendations for videos featuring redheads—which made him blush a bit deeper than the typical drunken flush—and a lot of them looked rather vanilla, more so than Wilfred would’ve expected for his friend given the persona he put up to everyone at school._

_“I don’t watch it any more than you do,” he retorted, clicking on one at random._

_“How do you know I don’t watch it as often as possible?” Wilfred asked slyly, shifting a bit on the floor next to his bed where they’d settled. His knee brushed up against Felix’s leg as the video loaded, and Felix tensed. “Maybe I spend all my free time right here in my room polishing my knob to videos of tall, mature-looking brunet blokes like you do with these redheaded birds.” The video began, the inane intro with its egregious acting and scripting going entirely unnoticed by the two of them as Wilfred continued to murmur close to Felix’s ear. “Or maybe I’m wrong after all. Should I be looking for videos with handsome boys with pink hair?”_

_The video finally cut to the real action, a close-up of the nameless actress’ face, lips wrapped around an erection much too large to be natural while the nameless actor groaned and whispered soft swears under his breath. Felix swallowed audibly, choking out, “How self-centred can you even be? And since when are you gay?”_

_Wilfred chuckled and pressed even closer as the actress on Felix’s phone continued to bob her head over the actor’s dick. “I never said I was gay. I just don’t really care about gender either way,” he whispered, pressing his lips sloppily to Felix’s neck. Felix shivered despite how warm he was to the touch, and Wilfred moved to nibble on his earlobe._

_“Will,” the boy gasped, “but… you’re my best friend.”_

_“And?” Wilfred countered, breath hot inside Felix’s ear for the single syllable before he returned to what he’d been doing._

_“A-And I’m not gay,” he argued, but he made no move to get away from Wilfred, and continued to shiver and gasp softly. His hand was shaking, but on the screen the video had cut unceremoniously to the primary act, the actress sitting on the actor’s dick and swivelling her hips around, moaning with wanton abandon. Wilfred felt himself becoming hard, and when he glanced into Felix’s lap saw that the other boy already was._

_“So? It feels good, doesn’t it?” Wilfred asked, leaving wet, liquor-stained kisses up and down Felix’s neck. “We can do things that feel good without it having to mean something, right?”_

_Felix shuddered and then tensed up. Wilfred was about to comment that he should just try to relax a little and reached a hand up the inside of his friend’s shirt, but he was interrupted by his bedroom door opening. There was no time to move away before Leopold Blair saw exactly what they had been doing._

_“Wilfred Blair, what in the blazes do you think you’re doing?” his father asked in a near whisper as Felix jumped away from Wilfred. The man’s gaze caught on Felix as he moved, and Wilfred knew that his dad could see his friend’s erection through his pants. He also noticed the empty bottle of gin and all the cans of tonic water strewn over the floor, and made a face of disgust. “Go home, Felix.” The boy made to clean up a bit, drunkenly stumbling towards the cans and gathering them up in his hands, but Leopold added in an angry shout, “Now!”_

_Felix jumped and nearly fell over and Wilfred glared openly at his father for the first time in a long time. “Don’t leave,” he said, though he wasn’t looking at his friend. “You don’t have to do what he tells you, he’s not in charge of you.”_

_“Don’t you dare try to undermine my authority in my own house,” Leopold snapped. Wilfred rolled his eyes and tried to grab at Felix’s shirt and make him sit back down. Felix’s head was going back and forth between father and son, unsure who he should listen to or what he should do, but his decision was made for him when Leopold stomped into the room and grabbed Wilfred by his hair, hauling him to his feet. Wilfred gasped in return, and was embarrassed to feel the fear returning to his eyes, but Leopold turned back to Felix and said in a low rumble, “If you don’t leave this instant your parents will be hearing about what I walked in on you two doing. Have I made myself clear?”_

_“Y-Yes, Mr. Blair,” Felix stammered, but Wilfred raised his voice before his friend could leave his room._

_“Really? You’re going to tell on us? You’re a fucking hypocrite.”_

_Wilfred could almost feel the sting on his cheek before his father even raised his hand to him, smacking him across the face harder than he ever had before, so hard that Wilfred was knocked to the ground. He didn’t remain there long, as Leopold again yanked him up by his hair, getting so close to his face that Wilfred could practically taste the champagne on his lips, so that his father could smell the gin and tonic on his own._

_“Mr. Blair, wh – what are you…” Felix trailed off when he went unnoticed. Wilfred’s and Leopold’s eyes were only on each other._

_“You are a filthy little boy,” Leopold said in such a low voice that Wilfred imagined he could feel the vibrations of his throat through their close proximity. “I will not allow you to speak to me in that manner, not in this household.”_

_“Or what?” Wilfred said, smiling wickedly at the man despite knowing he would pay for it. “Will you tell mother?”_

_This time it was a fist rather than an open palm that hit Wilfred’s face, though he didn’t go far for his father’s fingers still tight in his hair. He vaguely felt blood dripping from his nose._

_“Watch that mouth,” Leopold growled, which only brought a wider smile to Wilfred’s bloody lips._

_“Maybe you should watch yours,” Wilfred sneered. “Who knows where it’s been…”_

_Another blow to the face, and Wilfred was coughing, now with a split lip._

_“Mr. Blair, please stop!” came Felix’s voice from where he’d stopped near the door._

_But he didn’t. Not until Wilfred was bruised and bloody and could barely stand. Leopold straightened the cuff of his suit jacket, noticing only then that he’d gotten his son’s blood on the white undershirt. When he turned around, Felix was still there, staring at his best friend in shock and horror. Wilfred tried to smile at him, but was sure for all the pain that his mouth looked like nothing more than a gaping wound._

_Leopold grabbed Felix’s arm and pulled him out of the room. Wilfred could faintly hear over the buzzing in his ears his father demanding that Felix go home, and next hesitant footsteps down the corridor. His father didn’t immediately come back into the room. Wilfred figured he went to change out of his dirtied shirt. There was little time._

_Wilfred stood on unsteady legs and removed his own blooded shirt, wiping off his face with a hiss and throwing the truly ruined shirt on the floor before finding a new one and changing into it as quickly as he could. He grabbed a heavy jacket and stuffed his wallet in it, and gave one last cursory glance around his bedroom. He hoped with every ounce of his being that he would never see it again._

_When Leopold came into the room again, the window was open, and Wilfred was gone._


End file.
